beat me with your bitter lies
by thequeenofstorms
Summary: Princess Emma will be Queen of the Realm one day but for now she is a teenager who loathes her lessons and gives no thought to politics. Sensing danger in her indifference, Snow and Charming enlist a whipping girl from a noble family to give Emma some perspective. Warnings for violence and mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

Written for an ouatkinkmeme post. Will contain corporal punishment and future consensual BDSM.

**PROLOGUE**

"But we've never done that!" Snow gasped, her hand against her chest.

Her dark hair flowed behind her as she moved towards her advisor, grasping the small man tightly. Doc had been a friend and close confidante for many years and Snow had trusted him beyond all her court physicians to deliver Emma; he, above all others, could be counted on to impart the truth.

"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, perhaps that is the reason," Doc frowned, inclining his head in deference.

The Queen and Prince Consort were kind beyond measure and their daughter was both the best of them and the worst of them. The bravery and desire to protect were desirable traits for a future monarch, but Princess Emma was brash and spoiled, seeing no reason to listen to dull history lessons when she could be riding or exploring the forest.

"You think we should beat our daughter for any transgressions? You believe us so barbaric?" David's hand fell to his sword's hilt. Snow smiled at his protectiveness, her heart throbbing with love, even after all these years. It had been so long since they had fought a battle but it was still his first instinct.

"I believe you to be kind and just, Your Majesties," he faltered slightly. "But Emma is headstrong and the kingdoms grow only more dangerous."

"The kingdom loves her," Snow insisted, biting her lip.

"They do, yes, and the people are important. But so too are the nobles and..." Doc trailed off.

"And they do not. What do you recommend?" Snow asked, slumping in her seat. He need not inform the Queen of the way Emma had garnered the ire of so many of the nobles and members of the court, it was a fact she was painfully aware of herself.

"Because I would certainly never recommend that anyone discipline the princess, I suggest a girl of a similar age to Emma," Doc grimaced, unsure of his own recommendation.

"What would that accomplish? Emma has already proven she cares little for the girls of court," David interjected. It was true that Emma did not care much for anyone of the court, preferring to set off on her own rather than high-born boys and girls of her own age.

Snow rolled her eyes, putting her hand on her husband's arm. "He is suggesting a whipping girl, David. A girl who attends lessons with Emma, who lives with her. A bond forms. It's not uncommon for Princes, to encourage empathy."

"We buy a slave off the street and brutalize her?" Charming looked appalled, his mouth open in shock. Years in the court had not managed to erase the naive shepherd from his heart, nor would Snow ever choose to have it so.

"No, dear. It is a position of honour, held by the children of nobles, and rewarded greatly upon adulthood. The idea is that the threat of punishment of an innocent party keeps Emma from misbehaving and helps her pay attention to her lesson," Snow patted his hand gently before turning to Doc. "Who do you suggest?"

Doc blinked; the Queen had accepted his recommendation quicker than he had anticipated. He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "There are only two girls of similar age and of the correct nobility. Belle, daughter of Maurice, Duke of Avonlea, and Regina Molendinas, daughter of-"

"The Queen of Hearts, yes" Snow interrupted. She chanced a glance at her husband, noting the way his brow furrowed. He was brave and loyal but had no head for politics. He preferred his role as Field Marshal of their army, finding military strategy and maintaining the ranks far easier than the nuances of diplomacy and realm economics.

"I would recommend Regina. Though the House of Molendinas holds no title after the collapse of Henry's kingdom, they are rich beyond the telling. Such a match would prove beneficial if a title were promised for service to the Crown."

"They would gain title and we would gain much needed access to their gold," Snow confirmed, rubbing her chin.

She did not truly wish to make a teenage girl submit to possible beatings to teach her daughter but she could not bear to punish Emma herself and neither could her Charming. Emma had always been unusually empathetic, despite her disinterest in academics, and perhaps just the thought of a girl being whipped for her infractions would bring her to heel.

"You wish to bring the daughter of the Queen of Hearts to our kingdom, to the same room as _our_ daughter?" Charming gawped. "Snow, you know how she came to get that name."

"Those are only rumours, Charming," Snow smiled, running her thumb along the gold brocade of David's cuff. "If it were true that she ripped hearts from chests and controlled the wills of men, she would be much stronger positioned. Send the raven, Doc."


	2. Chapter 2

Emma sat in the main dining hall, pushing her bland porridge around the ornate bowl. One of the kitchen servants, Bertha, was considerate enough to send up dried grapes and a small pot of cinnamon for Emma to sprinkle over her meal and Emma was truly grateful. Despite her desire for runny eggs and thick, juicy meat, the kind act over her designated breakfast did not go unnoticed or unappreciated. A word of thanks and a smile went much further in her interactions with servants and peasants than in the snooty circles of the aristocracy, she had always found.

"Emma, we need to speak to you," Snow entered the dining hall, David trailing silently behind her.

Emma's lips twitched downwards at the solemn visages of her parents; she was getting wholly sick of their admonishments over her behaviour. She went to lessons with tutors, listened to them drone on and on about the history of various kingdoms, the politics of war, and the lineages of various noble houses. Emma would be queen of the realm one day and she would be bound to duties and politics, she didn't want to burden herself with such things decades before they would be useful.

"If this is about missing my lessons with Airrel and Elysia, I was with the High Almoner in the village," Emma explained, hoping that a pre-emptive reason might excuse her from a tedious lecture. She often went out with the almoner, bringing food, clothes and coin to anyone that might have need of it. She much preferred to spend the day doing something rather than trapped inside, behind a thick mahogany desk, listening to a tutor drone on about things that happened centuries ago. How could events from so long ago compare to acting in this world?

"It's Master Airrel and Lady Elysia, Emma," Snow corrected with a sigh. "And yes, that is part of why we wish to talk."

Snow rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly, fixing her daughter with a steady gaze to steel herself for what must be done. Emma was not a troublemaker, not truly, if she were not the heir to the crown, then her actions would be nothing short of exemplary. However, her kingdom was far from secure and all the love in the world would not keep Emma safe from villains who wished her only harm. It was not the grand declarations of retribution Snow feared, like Maleficent had vowed on little Aurora's name day so many years ago, but the quiet plots and machinations of the nobles, the whispers of gold and titles when the House of White had fallen.

"There is a concern that you are very quickly approaching adulthood and are not prepared for the responsibilities that your status demands," Snow began, squeezing Emma's hand.

"Please, mother, not this again," Emma tugged her hand away from Snow and grimaced, her lips twisting upwards in her displeasure.

David made a grunt of disapproval, placing his hands on Snow's shoulders in a gesture of solidarity. Though they would disagree on occasion, he would always stand with her. It was not only that she was the reigning monarch, the blood in her veins blue and pure, and that David, the poor son of a farmer

"Emma, you're almost sixteen and you'll be expected to take on royal responsibilities in the next few years," David explained. "You need to take this seriously."

Emma rolled her eyes, sliding down in her chair.

"I don't know what you've heard over the years, Emma, but I should apologize to you," Snow said. Emma's spine straightened at her mother's words, her head tilting to the side in bewilderment. "Marrying your father was the right thing to do but it created problems within the aristocracy."

Emma noticed the way her father's mouth flattened into a line, his jaw twitching.

"Before I met your father I was engaged to Dirk Petherick, Earl of Summershire. It was a match negotiated by my father and his father when we were thirteen. When I broke the engagement Summershire and the surrounding areas that supported them came very close to rebelling. It was only when King George visited and re-pledged his support for our kingdom that the whispers of rebellion died. Dirk Petherick married Arlenia, the Duchess of Coygnes, within the year. She holds much sway in Gyldan and is the cousin of King Midas. The Pethericks have long been opponents of our rule."

"What does this have to do with me not paying attention in my lessons?" Her question was genuine, borne of confusion. She had heard enough to know the marriage of a princess to a common shepherd caused quite a stir but it was nearly two decades ago and she was not entirely sure why it was suddenly so relevant.

"Because, Emma, you are the sole heir to this kingdom. You need to know politics and history, as well as economics in order to understand the dangers that are coming for you," David explained slowly, as if he was trying to keep his voice measured and even.

Emma frowned. Her father was a kind man, a mischievous smile always dancing at the very corners of his lips but this stern, somber version of him made her distinctly uncomfortable. Her mother was always on about duty and responsibility but her father usually gave her a wink and a smile when Snow wasn't looking.

"Is someone trying to kill me?" Emma asked, suddenly afraid.

"What? No!" Snow looked appalled. "Nothing like that, Emma. We're just concerned that you are going to be unprepared for a life that can be heavy with burden."

"Oh," Emma breathed, her shoulders relaxing. Her mother's green eyes were large and earnest, causing a sudden bolt of guilt to surge through Emma at the way she had dismissed her earlier.

"However, to ensure that you are more studious we've asked someone to take lessons with you," David's eyes drifted across the hall, examining one of the elaborate tapestries, deliberately avoiding his daughter's eyes.

"It's not that snob Deirdre Prevost is it? Because I don't care how much you want it, I am not going to be spending any time with her! She tripped me in front of the entire court three years ago!" Emma could feel her face flush in remembered embarrassment. She absolutely loathed the other boys and girls of the court, though Emma could not quite place her finger on why.

"No, it's not," Snow confirmed with a watery smile. "We have written to Cora Molendinas promising her a baronetcy if her daughter Regina comes and becomes your companion for the next few years."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Why would you have to bribe her? Wouldn't a commoner be happy to have their daughter living at the castle?"

"Regina isn't just to live here, Emma. She is to be your whipping girl."

Emma slammed the door to her chambers shut with as much strength as she could muster.

A whipping girl? She had heard of such things, of course, but in other kingdoms and mostly for princes who were seven or eight, to teach them empathy, to create bonds and ensure that as a child of eminent privilege they didn't become too far removed from humanity. Certainly not to ensure a daughter of nearly marrying age attended dull lessons.

Was Emma truly such a deficient daughter that her parents need resort to such barbarism to ensure she stayed within the stiff confines of royal standards?

Anger swirled up inside her, a tempest of feeling that left her dizzy and uncertain. How could they do this to a girl, practically purchase her on the grounds of bearing the punishment for a princess she hadn't even met? Not to mention that just as her parents had intended, Emma would no longer be free to do as she chose; she would have a girl trailing after her, awaiting sanction for any of Emma's missteps.

She raised her head back and screamed at the ceiling, a guttural howl that made her throat ache as much as her chest already did.

Emma followed her mother into the drawing room, trying to hide her scowl. The gown her mother had coaxed her into was not the sort with layers and layers of petticoats that made her feel as if she was cocooned in fabric and was actually quite nice, silky and a beautiful mint green that matched her eyes. Still, Emma resented it for the sole fact she was being forced to have tea with Cora Molendinas and the daughter she had all but sold for a title. She suspected it would a colossal effort not to sneer at the woman.

A middle-aged woman who looked to be several years older than Snow stood immediately, tugging the girl beside her up before both of them curtseyed impeccably. The woman, presumably Cora Molendinas,wore an elaborate gown of burgundy, extensive embroidered beadwork apparent along the busts and skirts, as if attempting to rise above her station by wealth and posture alone.

In comparison the simple cerulean dress adorning the girl beside Cora seemed bland, as if an afterthought.

Soon they were introduced and sitting, sipping tea daintily from white china cups.

Regina was beautiful, the kind of beautiful girls like Deirdre Prevost wished they were. Her hair was dark and her skin a lovely olive colour, that made her look wonderfully sunkissed. Her eyes were a deep brown and seemed to sparkle in the light, so different from her imposing mother. There was something about Cora Molendinas' smile that set Emma on edge. It seemed awkward, forced and not travelling up to her eyes, matching the stiff way she sat.

"Emma," Snow looked up from her conversation, patting her daughter on the knee lightly. "Why don't you show Regina to her rooms while Cora and I speak?"

Emma nodded and rose, forcing a smile and a bow of her head to Cora before gesturing to Regina. The two girls left the room silently, Regina trailing behind.

The guards straightened immediately upon seeing the princess, their armoured heels snapping together with a dull click. Emma felt overly aware of her body, arms and legs feeling awkward and heavy.

They walked several hallways and up several flights of stairs before Emma could not bear the silence any longer.

"You know why you're here right?" Emma turned to Regina, wanting to see her face.

"Yes, your grace," she answered, smiling faintly.

Jealousy swelled up at Emma's temples briefly, clouding her head with thoughts of how her parents would likely prefer a polite, obedient daughter like Regina, submitting to their wills with such a smile. She blinked it away quickly.

Emma had expected the politeness and the happy façade plastered to so many faces when they spoke to royalty but she was searching for more, for the truth behind the words. It was why she loathed court and the simpering courtiers: she had always been able to see right through them, their lies taking on an almost physical embodiment, putrid and thick against her skin.

"You are content with being my whipping girl?"

The skin around Regina's eyes tightened minutely before that mysterious smile graced her lips again. "Would it matter?"

"Maybe not the outcome, but I feel the situation deeply," Emma said earnestly. Regina blinked, glancing down at her hands, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a private expression, as if she had not expected such an answer.

"We have both had choice removed, so it matters not whether I desire such upward mobility esteemed position offered. What happens is entirely up to you, your grace," Regina met Emma's eyes, holding the gaze with lifted chin.

"Don't call me that," a frown tugged at her cheeks. "My name is Emma."

"Emma," Regina repeated the name, her mouth forming the word deliberately, as if it had a taste and texture on her tongue.

Emma stopped walking, resting her hand on Regina's warm forearm. "I don't think this is right, Regina. I will do everything in my power to ensure you won't be injured."

Regina smiled almost shyly, glancing at Emma's hand against her arm. "The rumours about you are true then."

"Rumours?" Emma blushed, unsure of what Regina would answer. She ducked her head and continued along the corridor towards their chambers.

Regina hurried to catch up, her silken slippers padding gently against the ivory marble, skirts rustling.

"That you're brave and kind, especially for a princess," a grin spread across her face.

"Apparently not good enough if my parents believed they needed to bribe a family to give up their daughter to potential brutality," Emma moved faster, her failure creating humiliation where she would normally feel delight.

It truly warmed her heart to know the kingdom's inhabitants thought well of her; that was where true pride lay, in the honour of a day's work to keep the land and its people healthy and happy. Emma wished so thoroughly to be deserving of them, to be a leader that they would be proud to have chosen themselves and not simply be thrust upon them as an accident of birth. The indignity of being found wanting by her own parents burned through her, creating an oddly physical ache deep in her gut.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Emma. Perhaps all you need is someone to attend your lessons with you. To keep your mind on the task at hand."

"You're not like the others in court," Emma said, smiling weakly at Regina. Her heart felt lighter upon hearing Regina's words, as if the girl herself had reached into her chest and removed burden.

"What do you mean?" Regina's brows furrowed, her mouth tightening.

"I don't know," Emma laughed, though she did, in fact, know why. Regina carried more honesty within her than all the courtiers Emma knew. "Oh, we're here."

She opened a high, rounded door and swept into an ornate bedroom.

"This will be your chamber. My parents, the Queen and Prince Consort, are on the very top floor, and we are just below them. I like the view over the valley," she said, gesturing to the balcony and the magnificent vista .

"It's beautiful. Does it ever get cold with the balconies and being up so high?" Regina asked, walking over to the ledge. There was ornate iron rejería along the open air, designed to look like vines and equally designed to keep anyone from plummeting over the side.

"It does get very cold. There are curtains for the summer and doors hidden in the walls for winter," Emma pointed to the narrow slats in the stone where heavy doors were cleverly concealed.

"It's beautiful," Regina smiled.

"My room is next door, down the corridor but come," Emma indicated for Regina to step closer. "There is a hidden door behind this tapestry so we can pass unseen."

"Why is it hidden?"

"My mother says that my chambers have always belonged to the heir apparent and they were used by personal servants to attend their every need," Emma frowned. As the crown princess she was indeed waited and fussed over and though she had disliked it for many years, she had become close with the servants and felt a comfort in their midst she did not among the politicking of court.

"Am I your servant?" Regina's voice trembled over the last word, as if she was afraid that she had indeed been sold like chattel.

Emma stroked her thumb along the soft skin of Regina's hand. "No, that's why you have these rooms. My parents intended them for any future siblings I might have. Though they've never had any other."

"We should get back to our mothers," Regina tugged her hand back and turned.

"Regina, about that," Emma looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry that you've been put in this position. I certainly did not wish it and I know that you did not either. So I will endeavour to be on my best behaviour, so that you do not suffer needlessly."

Regina looked back at Emma, a kind smile gracing her face, unshed tears visible in her brown eyes.


End file.
